


still just a reoccurring dream

by krystian



Series: Spectacular Nights [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Body Horror, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, During Canon, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Good Parent Regis Lucis Caelum, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Temporary Character Death, Violence, Vomiting, ardyn doesnt appear in this because i dont care about garbage jesus, it's all over the place, kind of?, let him suffer, the only lovestory you'll see here is between the author and semicolons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24687715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystian/pseuds/krystian
Summary: Noctis had always prided himself on being able to distinguish between reality and dream, being able to see the fine line, shining like a silvery thread, that separated them. Not that that had been very hard – his dreams had always been… peculiar, to say the least, unlike anything that could happen to him in the world of the living.So when he came to in a room, lit up only by the soft, reddish light of the moon that hung just outside of his window, he knew something was off.
Series: Spectacular Nights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866481
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	still just a reoccurring dream

**Author's Note:**

> me, frothing at the mouth: hhhh symbolism
> 
> finished the game almost 4 years after release, but im good. little late to the party, but honestly, better late than never? i'll gladly keep beating Leviathan's scaly ass if it means i can keep listening to the music
> 
> also, i swear this has a plot, even if it doesnt seem like it half of the time.
> 
> title is taken from [Save the World](https://youtu.be/o0pdccbyBTE) (Wolfie's just fine), but the plot was inspired by Nick Lutsko's [Sometimes](https://youtu.be/0Kk0SWtSoOA)
> 
> fun fact: my laptop broke after 30 minutes of writing this. If that isnt an omen, i dont know what is  
> 

Noctis had always prided himself on being able to distinguish between reality and dream, being able to see the fine line, shining like a silvery thread, that separated them. Not that that had been very hard – his dreams had always been… _peculiar,_ to say the least, unlike anything that could happen to him in the world of the living.

So when he came to in a room, lit up only by the soft, reddish light of the moon that hung just outside of his window, he knew something was off. Noctis swung his legs over the edge of the bed, slipping out from beneath the warm covers and cringing when his bare skin met the night air. It was mid-June, and his room should definitely _not_ be this cold.

He sighed, getting up from the comfort of his bed and traipsed over to his window, pushing aside the curtains to get a better look at the moon.

Insomnia lay before him, mostly dark, only stray lights illuminating the otherwise almost black streets and houses. The red moon hovered just above the horizon, looming over the city like the setting sun. Noctis squinted at it, trying to scan its surface as his left hand subconsciously grabbed the curtains in a vice-like grip, creasing the fabric and making wrinkles appear in the otherwise smooth cloth.

There just was _something_ about the moon that unsettled him; not the fact that it was a dark shade of red, or way too big, but… something else, something he couldn’t quite grasp or put into words.

Noctis clicked his tongue, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he willed his hands to relax, letting the curtains fall shut once again. This was all just a dream, nothing to worry about. His father had warned him about weird dreams that would appear the older he got after all, so this was probably normal. He grabbed the small statue of Carbuncle he kept on his desk, tightly gripping it in his hands like a talisman.

Then he shuffled back to his bed, letting himself drop onto it as he snuggled into his blankets, pulling them tightly around his body and sighing into his pillow, letting it muffle the quiet sounds of the night. He was tired, feeling as if something heavy had nested itself in the back of his mind, and thus he let his eyes fall shut and the whisper of the treetops just outside his window lull him to sleep.

* * *

Rays of sunshine fell onto his face, warming it ever so slightly.

Noctis groaned into his pillow, trying to block each and every of them out, but to no avail. Groaning even louder than before, he rolled to the side, effectively getting tangled in the blankets still wrapped around his body. Sighing, he kicked at them, trying to break free of their constricting _(yet incredibly comfortable)_ warmth.

He _had_ closed the curtains yesterday, hadn’t he? So how come the sun was shining right into his eyes as if mocking him? Maybe he’d just forgotten; not that that was anything new.

Draping one arm across his eyes, he sighed again, giving up his futile efforts to free himself of his cocoon of warmth. The mattress beneath him was soft, giving in under his weight but not enough to actually let him sink into it. It wasn’t the mattress of his bed in the Citadel though – it felt more like his bed in his apartment.

Finally opening his eyes, he squinted at the light that momentarily blinded him, looking around the room after his eyes had adjusted.

Yep, definitely his apartment.

Noctis stretched a little, letting his joints pop, when a knock resonated from the door. Of course Ignis would come to wake him up on – he fumbled around for his phone, narrowing his eyes to look at the small numbers on his dimmed screen – a Saturday morning at 10 am. 

Rolling over so he could face the door, he called out a weak “Yeah, whatever, come in”, his voice still scratchy and heavy with sleep. Trying to flatten his bedhead, he watched as Ignis opened the door, stepping inside and immediately moving towards the window to pull up the blinds completely and open it, letting fresh air circulate in the room. Noctis yawned, eyeing him warily. “So what brings Specs to my doorstep this early in the morning?”

Ignis merely raised an eyebrow at him, opting to open the wardrobe and pick an outfit for Noctis that’d suit his schedule. Not that Noctis even knew what his schedule was like. “What brings me over to your doorstep, as you so eloquently put it, Your Highness, is that you tend to oversleep when presented with the opportunity. Which is why I am here, to prevent just that.”

Noctis propped himself up on his elbows, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “And what exactly is the plan for today?” He didn’t really want to know, but at the same time, it was better to be prepared than to be thrust into the day without any knowledge about what was to come.

His advisor hummed quietly from where he was standing, still deciding on the prince’s attire for the day. “Training with Gladiolus is scheduled from 11 am to 1 pm, followed by half an hour of rest where you should recuperate before having lunch with King Regis at the Citadel. After that, you are expected to-“

“Dad’s having lunch with me today?” Noctis interrupted him, raising an eyebrow himself. Well, at least he tried to. It probably looked stupid. Prompto always told him it looked kind of ridiculous at least. Not that Prompto was any better at it.

Nodding, Ignis finally decided on a white button-down shirt and black dress pants, as well as a light blazer, neatly hanging them over his arm. “I recommend you wear your sportswear for now and then change into your formal clothing after your training. You will, of course, be able to shower at the Citadel.” Turning around, he stepped over to Noctis’ table and took the suit bag that was already laying there, manoeuvring the clothes inside without creasing them. For a split second, Noctis wondered when it’d appeared there, but decided not to dwell on it. Ignis had probably just smuggled it inside yesterday, or something like that.

He yawned again, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “Dunno why you gotta pick clothes from here though. Don’t I have any fancy suits back in my room at the Citadel that’d be _just_ perfect for this occasion?”

Ignis shot him an unidentifiable look. “I suppose so,” he muttered, his hand not ceasing to smooth out invisible creases. “In any case, you should probably go wash and dress yourself. Breakfast is almost ready as well.”

Noctis sighed, dropping back onto the bed and waving his hand when Ignis made a disagreeing noise. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Just gimme a second, alright?”

From the corners of his eyes, he could see Ignis running a hand through his immaculately styled hair, but then the older man stepped out of the room without another reprimand, so Noctis counted it as a win.

He stretched again, feeling his muscles tense up and then finally made to detangle himself from the mess of blankets he’d become entrapped in. It was a hard struggle, and he almost fell of the bed once or twice, but at last he was standing in front of the floor-length mirror, staring at his own reflection. Dark bags had formed beneath his eyes, a stark contrast to his otherwise pale skin, and he blinked once, twice, watching his reflection blink back at him.

“Noctis?” A voice – Ignis’ voice – called out from the kitchen of the apartment, and he groaned, yelling back a clipped “Yeah, I’m coming” before grabbing a black shirt and black pants from the drawer and hurrying _(well, he tried to hurry, really)_ into the bathroom to get ready.

Given that he had training first thing in the morning, he could probably skip the shower for now, so he only went for brushing his teeth, tired eyes drooping all the while, and washing his face, fingers scrubbing over soft, unmarred skin. 

Dropping his nightclothes back onto his unmade bed, he strolled into the kitchen, hiding yet another yawn behind his hand and watching as Ignis set down a stack of pancakes on the table before settling down with a coffee at the other end, gesturing for Noctis to sit down as well.

He obliged _(but only because the pancakes smelled that good, not because Ignis told him to)_ and dropped onto the chair, making it wobble ever so slightly. Ignis watched him over the rim of his cup as he grabbed the fork and tried to cut off a piece, other arm propped up on the table with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. “Where are your manners, Your Highness?” He commented, and although Noctis despised that title, he couldn’t help but pick out the subdued teasing tone that accompanied Ignis’ words.

“Must’ve gotten lost along the way,” he replied, eyes fixated on the task at hand as he finally managed to cut off a good chunk of pancake, stabbing it and raising it to his mouth. He hesitated for a second, and Ignis raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve already eaten?” Noctis asked, waving the fork around, and Ignis actually allowed himself a small smile.

“Of course, Your Highness. And I recommend you do the same unless you want your food to get cold.” He picked up his cup again and raised it to his mouth, taking a sip.

Noctis grimaced, both at the title and the coffee as he shoved the fork in his mouth, chewing slowly. It tasted good – not that that was anything new, either, and he let the taste linger on his tongue as suddenly a sharper, more bitter taste joined the sweet, mild flavour of the pancakes.

Frowning, Noctis laid the fork down and swallowed his bite, staring down at his silver cutlery.

Ignis must have noticed his expression, because he, too, frowned, setting down his coffee. “Is something wrong?” He asked, worry flitting across his face before his expression smoothened out again, becoming neutral once more.

Noctis cleared his throat, licking his lips. Copper. The flavour was copper, staining his mouth with its disgusting taste. He stared back down at the fork, lifting it up and holding it against the light, examining it. “I think I cut my tongue,” he finally answered, blood slowly trickling from his tongue into his mouth.

Eyebrows drawn together, Ignis got up, plucking the fork from Noctis’ fingers. “On a fork? Oh-“ He went silent for a moment, eyes on the gleaming object, reflecting the light of the late morning. “It’s-“

“The fork is rusty,” Noctis completed the sentence for him, shrugging slightly. It was what it was after all; even the best cutlery didn’t live forever.

But Ignis’ eyebrows were still drawn together, and he muttered something under his breath that Noctis barely could make out. “Silver does not rust, though.”

Cocking his head to the side, Noctis shrugged again. “Who cares, Specs? It’s just a small cut and I got my tetanus shot last year, so nothing’s gonna happen, alright?” He leaned back, not really hungry anymore. “Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Gladio waiting after all.” 

Ignis – who still did not look fully convinced – sighed, nodding slightly. “If you wish so. I’ll dispose of this fork immediately, of course.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “Specs, it’s just a fork, not some high traitor. Calm down.” Getting up from his chair, he moved towards the front door as Ignis disposed of the fork, whatever that meant. He most likely didn’t actually get rid of it, probably taking it with him to examine it in private. Not that Noctis cared. Slipping into his shoes, he turned around and waited for Ignis. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t drive by himself yet – probably would never be allowed to drive on his own, because of “security reasons” or whatever.

Ignis was right behind him, pulling on a light jacket and opening the door for Noctis, motioning for him to step outside so he could lock it behind them. Noctis sighed, trotting down the stairs, Ignis – as always – a few feet behind him.

Together, they climbed into the car, fastening their seatbelts and Ignis started the engine to drive them towards their location. Noctis glanced at the panel displaying the time before disinterestedly watching the world outside the car window fly by. They weren’t too late, alright. Not that Ignis would ever let him be late if he had any say in it.

For once, Ignis didn’t try to indulge him in pointless small talk, didn’t ask how he’d slept or if he’d dreamt, and from the corner of his eyes, Noctis could see how his hands gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Eyes still fixated on the world outside, watching a black dog play on the sidewalk, he spoke up, “Stop worrying so much, Specs. I told you it’s fine.”

Ignis lifted one hand from the steering wheel, pushing up his glasses with his index finger and thumb. A frown was pulling at the corners of his mouth, and he seemingly contemplated his next words. “No. I must apologize; it was a lapse in judgement, but you shall rest assured that it will never happen again.”

Noctis groaned, raising one hand to his temple and massaging it. “It was a damn fork, Iggy. Could’ve happened anytime. Plus, nothing really _did_ happen. You’re just being a worrywart.” Fumbling with the knobs for the radio, he turned the volume up, effectively shutting Ignis up. His advisor really did worry too much for his own good.

He was sure that Ignis mumbled something into his non-existent beard, but he didn’t broach the subject again, just kept on staring outside as they neared their destination. Once Ignis came to a halt just outside the Citadel, Noctis had already opened the door halfway, one foot on the pavement. He waved curtly, giving Ignis a small smirk before the other could resume their conversation or add anything else. “See ya later, Specs. Just drop the clothes off in my room and I’ll change into them after training, alright?”

Without giving Ignis the time to respond, he already threw the door shut, leaving no room for objections and made his way up the stairs, listening to the engine as Ignis drove the car away to park somewhere.

Running a hand through his hair _(but carefully; he didn’t want to mess it up, after all)_ he stepped into the entrance hall, nodding at the guards that were stationed there. He knew the Citadel like the back of his hand and could probably find his way even if he were blind. Full of confidence, he swiftly went into the adjoined rooms, making his way towards the training and sparring area. Knowing Gladio like he did, his Shield would be waiting for him already.

He went into the locker room, grabbing a bottle of water from the nearby dispenser and checking his arsenal, and then quickly traversed the room. At this time of the day, it was still completely empty, most Crownsguard members still working in and around the Citadel and city, patrolling the area and the Kingsglaive doing… well, whatever they did. Top-secret stuff, probably.

Noctis pushed the door open, stepping into the grand room. As soon as he’d made his way inside, he could hear the clanging of metal on metal, metal on stone, the sound of skin against the hard floor, and it grinded against his ears, making his head throb ever so slightly.

Casually, he sidled up next to Gladio _(who of course had noticed him the moment he’d come in),_ watching as the older man worked up a sweat. Noctis raised an eyebrow at the spectacle, lifting his water bottle to his lips and taking a sip.

Beside him, Gladio snorted. “Iggy actually managed to drag you out of bed at a somewhat decent time? That’s new.”

Noctis rolled his eyes at the jab, capping his water bottle and placing it on the ground. “Actually, I woke up by myself today.” He tried not to sound too proud, but Gladio must have caught a glimpse of his pride despite his effort to hide it, because he smirked, rolling his eyes.

“Damn,” he whistled lowly, eyes still on the dummy in front of him. Bastard didn’t even sound winded. “Didn’t realize the world was ending. I guessed the only thing to ever wake the Sleeping Beauty would be the apocalypse.”

Snorting, Noctis picked up his sword, falling into his usual stance as he waited for Gladio to pay attention to him. “Well, you guessed wrong, big guy.” He allowed himself a tiny smirk as Gladio finally stopped assaulting the dummy and instead turned towards him, raising his broadsword into an aggressive stance.

“You ready to get your ass handed to you, princess?” He asked instead of admitting to his defeat, charging at the young prince before Noctis even had the chance to nod. He parried the first blow, wincing when metal scraped against metal, angling his feet away and widening his stance as his arms struggled with keeping the broadsword away from him.

Grinding his teeth together, he ducked under Gladio’s hefty swing, narrowly avoiding taking the absolute monster of a sword to his face. As fast as he could, he sidestepped, arm immediately coming up to shield his body from the next blow Gladio was sure to deliver.

When he dodged again, Gladio shot him a grin, closing in on him menacingly. “That all you got?” He asked, his grin widening. “You gonna keep dancing around, or are you gonna-“ He cut himself off, swiftly stepping forward and lunging out to hit Noctis’ unguarded left side with the hilt of his sword. Noctis grimaced at the unwelcome feeling; that’d definitely bruise tomorrow.

He pulled back, falling into his defensive stance once again as Gladio rolled his eyes at him. “Really? That’s how you’re gonna play today? Nu-uh, don’t think so.” Noctis didn’t even have the time to blink as Gladio closed in on him again, this time going for the kill.

Already seeing his life flash in front of his eyes, Noctis raised both of his arms to block the incoming blow, trying to keep his own sword steady even as his arms shook with the effort, beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face.

But Gladio wasn’t done with him; his Shield grinned at him once again, his face merely inches from Noctis’ own, pressing down with all his might. Furrowing his brows, Noctis was so immersed in trying to parry the blow he was sure would be devastating otherwise, he noticed way too late when Gladio suddenly pulled back, making him stumble forwards.

As if that wasn’t enough, Gladio lowered the sword, opting to go for a swift kick to Noctis’ side instead, that – given that he’d almost lost his balance – sent him skidding over the ground and straight into one of the pillars that supported the ceiling. He heard his sword clatter against the stone floor. 

His back hurt. Like, it _really_ hurt.

Fire was crawling all over his body, lazily licking at his limbs, and he groaned into the arm that was pressed against his face, trying to lift his head.

Gladio squatted next to him, offering Noctis a hand to pull him up. “Why didn’t ya warp away, kid?” He asked, sighing and shaking his head all the while. “Gave ya enough time to pull such a stunt. Real battles ain’t like that at all.”

Instead of deigning him an answer, Noctis simply groaned again as his world tipped to the side, grabbing Gladio’s hand with his own shaking, clammy one, and letting the other pull him up ever so slightly. Not enough to actually stand up, but enough to sit up and lean his aching back against the pillar, at least.

The pillar, which was mercifully cold against his skin, set ablaze by the fire crawling over it. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “’m tired,” he mumbled, head lolling to one side and eyes clouded by pain. He was tired, really damn tired. Maybe he should’ve just stayed in bed.

Noctis could basically hear the frown in Gladio’s deep, rumbling voice. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna let you sleep right now, kid. Not with a possible concussion or whatever – Ignis’d have my head for that. As would Cor. And my Dad. And His Majesty. And just about everyone else. So, you’re gonna stay with me, alright?” He lightly slapped Noctis cheek with the back of his hand. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but enough to keep him from slipping completely. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now, yeah?”

He grumbled again, trying to swat Gladio’s hand away but failing spectacularly. “Already told you, ‘m tired,” he slurred, eyes still closed against the blinding light of the room that made his head spin. “Just lemme sleep for a while.”

The last thing he could hear was Gladio’s rising voice, telling him to stay awake, but the darkness in his mind had already tugged him inside its waiting arms.

* * *

Noctis groaned, lifting his head from where it had been leaning against the headrest, and blearily looked around, blinking slowly while taking his surroundings in. Not that there was that much to take in.

Next to him, Gladio shortly looked up from the book he was engrossed in _(some trashy romance novel, Noctis noted)_ shooting him an amused look. “Back among the living, Noct?” He asked, not even trying to hide the teasing tone in his voice.

The young prince only sighed, stretching a little and rolling his head from one side to the other to work the kinks out, making it crack a little. Prompto in the front seat winced slightly, grimacing. Noctis ignored him, leaning forward in his eat and clearing his throat. “Where are we right now, Specs?” He allowed himself another look around, but it seemed that night had descended upon them while he’d been asleep, the road only lit up by their headlights and the stars that dotted the night sky. It was rather peculiar; no matter where they’d been, there had always been at least _one_ lonesome streetlight accompanying them on their way.

Ignis looked at him through the rear-view mirror, hands safely on the steering wheel. “We should be reaching our destination very soon,” was all he said in reply, focusing on the street in front of him once more.

Noctis snorted. “Very helpful.” Resting one hand in the nape of his neck, he leant back into his soft seat, closing his eyes once more as they drove on into the darkness. The cool air of the night caressed his face, whispering into his ears. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the daemons’ eyes staring at them in passing, hungering to get their disgusting hands _(or slimy appendages)_ on them. He shuddered; thank the Astrals for Cindy and her continuous work on the Regalia.

And then the light started flickering. Flickering and, finally, going out.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Gladio cursed, putting his book away and narrowing his eyes at the front of the car. At least that was what Noctis imagined him to be doing. Not that he could see anything. “Iggy, what’s going on?”

Ignis sounded exasperated, heaving a sigh as static started to fill the radio that had been playing some catchy tune until this moment, distorting the song completely. “I don’t know,” he admitted, slowing down. “We’re not out of fuel or the like. It’s just-“ He sighed again, and in the dimly lit night, Noctis could see him pinch the bridge of his nose.

Silent until now, Prompto suddenly piped up. “Hey, uh, Ignis, why exactly are we… y’know, slowing down? Shouldn’t we be getting to the nearest outpost asap?” He sounded hesitant, fumbling with a dark shape that resembled the camera in his hands. Its screen had been lit, but even that tiny window of light was gone now.

Window of…

Hastily, Noctis rummaged through the pockets of his pants, fishing out his phone and pressing his thumb against the scanner. Nothing happened. He frowned, holding down the button that should definitely make it turn on. Still nothing. “You think someone’s – maybe Imperials - jamming our signal?” He asked no one in particular.

“Nah,” Gladio’s deep voice resounded from next to him, “we’d have noticed them long ago if that was the case. And besides, jamming signals doesn’t make all the electricity just… go away.”

“Ignis, I really don’t think we should be parking here,” Prompto spoke up again, his voice brittle, close to breaking completely. “Really, I think we should keep going and-“ He babbled on, his voice getting higher and higher.

Noctis hadn’t even noticed that Ignis had driven them to a bend in the road and then turned the engine off. He was about to side with Prompto, when Ignis beat him to it. “I don’t think we have a say in that matter,” he announced, raising an arm to point in the direction he was facing. “Seeing as the daemons have already smelled blood. Our blood, to be precise.”

Gladio cursed under his breath as a Red Giant rose from the asphalt, brandishing its fiery sword with ease. “Guess we don’t have choice, then,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, already opening the car door and stepping outside.

Noctis rolled his eyes, doing the same. “So, what’s the plan? Fight our way through the daemons and hope that we’ll reach an outpost before they overwhelm us?”

Shoes clacking against the street, Ignis and Prompto joined them. “Unless any of you have a better idea, that would be our only option. We will have to leave the Regalia here for the time being,” Ignis said, pocketing the keys to the car, “and retrieve it tomorrow morning. Staying here simply isn’t an option,” he added when Prompto made a small disagreeing noise, longingly looking back at the car.

He could see the light of the stars reflecting in his friends’ weapons as they readied them, and he gripped the Engine Blade in his hands, knuckles whitening. “I so didn’t sign up for this,” Prompto whined, reloading his gun.

Gladio snorted, the sound unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet night. “Shoulda stayed home then,” he teased, and Noctis could basically hear the smirk in his voice. He could faintly see the outline of Gladio’s broad back as the older man started moving forwards.

“And miss out on this? No way, dude!” Prompto’s voice resounded in the night, echoing slightly. “What was that?” He hastily scrambled after the Shield, not wanting to be left behind.

“I believe,” Ignis replied to his query, falling into step next to Noctis, “that that was the tunnel we were about to enter before the power went out.” Apparently the power had not only left their car but deserted the tunnel as well.

“Tunnel?” Prompto squeaked, his voice wavering. “We have to pass through a _tunnel_? A dark tunnel, filled to the brim with daemons?”

Noctis jogged to catch up with Prompto, lightly hitting the blond’s shoulder with his fist. “Chill out, man. If we’re careful enough, we’ll be able to sneak past most of them. Just think of it as a… night hike. A really annoying one.” He pretended not to notice how Prompto flinched back at the touch, rubbing the spot afterwards with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Not helpful, Noct,” he replied, although his voice was a little calmer now, so Noctis counted it as a kind-of win. “Ugh, just let’s get this over with so we can get back to civilization.”

Gladio, still acting as some sort of vanguard, turned his head and grinned at them over his shoulder, the broadsword resting at his side. “Now that’s the spirit.”

Noctis just grumbled something under his breath, shaking his head and steeling himself for the inevitable. He drew in a deep breath before stepping forward in the direction of the tunnel’s entrance, hand clenched around his sword. The Red Giant they’d seen from afar slowly shuffled away from them, dragging its sword across the asphalt. 

He frowned, confused. Shouldn’t it-?

The moment he stepped inside the tunnel, he knew why the daemon had stayed away.

Something was wrong. _Very wrong._

Noctis sucked in a quick breath, trying to calm his erratic heart that seemed to be clawing its way out of its chest. He whipped around, but as soon as his eyes landed on the exit, the distance between them seemed to grow, until it was but a pinprick in the distance.

His heart sank in his chest, and he swallowed heavily.

It was dead silent.

“Ignis?” He dared to call out, voice sounding timid. Clearing his throat, he tried anew. “Prompto? Gladio? Where are you guys? This- this isn’t funny at all.” He waited for a few moments, straining his ears to hear anything at all.

“Okay guys, you got me. Can we leave now?” Honestly, who was he kidding; this was wishful thinking. Noctis turned around again, facing forward.

Or at least what he thought to be forwards. It was hard to tell in the darkness that surrounded him. Ignis would know what to do, Ignis would…

Noctis paused shortly, accessing the armiger and riffling through it. If he remembered correctly, there should be…

He allowed himself a short-lived grin as he pulled out a magic flask, breaking it over his sword and imbuing the blade with fire. It wasn’t as efficient as a torch or the like, but it was better than nothing. Now that the warm flames illuminated the nearby area and he could actually see what was in front of him, he stepped forward into the darkness, his steps echoing in the tunnel.

Holding the blade in front of his body, he surveyed his surroundings, looking for anything that was out of place and listening for any sign of his friends. They _had_ to be alright; there was simply no way in hell that they weren’t. He’d find them and then they’d get out of this tunnel, together.

Noctis swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and pushed onward, not daring to look back. He didn’t know what he expected. His heart in his chest pounded against his ribcage as he took step after step, the only sound that pierced the night air his laboured breathing and the crackling of the flames.

His eyes were glued to some distant point faraway, and thus he didn’t notice at first that something was in his way until his foot bumped into something soft, making him stumble. Noctis looked down, eyes widening in disbelief as his blood froze in his veins.

Breath hitching in his throat, he hastily kneeled down next to Gladio, placing a shaking hand on his friend’s shoulder. His voice was hoarse when he whispered “Gladio?”, hating the hesitance in it.

But Gladio didn’t stir. Didn’t stir beneath his cautious fingers, didn’t grin at him or call him “princess”, didn’t do _anything._ His skin was as cold as the ground he was resting on.

His left hand, the one not holding the sword, dug into Gladio’s tanned skin, leaving crescent marks. “No, no, no, _no_ ,” he mumbled, trying to angle Gladio’s body so he could see his face, search for a pulse, any sign of life. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not right now. Not Gladio, of all people.

Applying as little force as he could, he turned Gladio around so the older man was facing the ceiling. Which was a bad idea.

The minute Noctis laid his eyes upon his friend’s face, he felt like throwing up whatever was in his stomach. He clasped a hand in front of his mouth, gagging a little as his saliva coated his fingers. “ _Fuck,_ ” he whispered into the dead of the night, eyes stuck on Gladio’s unmoving form.

His face was a _mess._ Eyes stared towards the ceiling, unseeing, unblinking, and his mouth was opened as if he had been in the middle of yelling something, frozen in time. Blood ran down his temple, getting caught in his hair and tangling it together, and his nose seemed to be broken, dried blood running down his philtrum, black against his ashen skin.

Noctis shifted slightly, getting one arm under the nape of Gladio’s neck and raising his head as gently as he could. Swiftly, he put the sword down and raised his other hand to search for a pulse, pressing trembling fingers to Gladio’s neck. “Come on, _come on,_ ” he begged his friend’s unresponsive body, shaking him lightly. “C’mon Gladio, this isn’t funny.”

When his Shield still didn’t answer, Noctis paused for a second, trying to catch the breath that seemed to be stuck in his throat. He gritted his teeth together, pressing his eyes shut as his grip on Gladio tightened. He couldn’t- what was he supposed to do?

His eyes flew open when it hit him.

Whatever had gotten to Gladio, it could still be here. Here, where he was. Here, where his other two friends were.

Hastily, he pressed Gladio’s eyes shut, wanting to pay him at least that much respect and promising to come back to get him, and then he scrambled upwards, almost forgetting his sword in the process.

Noctis quickly bent down and retrieved it, falling into a light jog as he went down the tunnel, eyes fixated on the ground in fear of stumbling across something – some _one –_ else. “Ignis? Prompto?” He tried again, hoping it wouldn’t alert the _thing_ to either him or his friends.

It felt as if he’d been running for miles now, the scenery not changing, and for a moment he was scared that he was actually just running in loops; until he realized that he’d have come across Gladio again if that was the case. Willing himself not to think about his friend, he hurried on, eyes straining to see in the darkness.

At this point, his lungs were burning and his breaths were forming little clouds in front of his face, clouding his vision. He hadn’t remembered it to be this cold. It shouldn’t be this cold.

Noctis shook his head, squinting as something else than the empty walls of the tunnel came into sight, slowing down slightly. His grip around the hilt of the sword tightened, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Something was squirming on the floor, a few hundred feet away, writhing in an ever-spreading puddle of dark liquid that painted patterns around its body.

He pressed his eyes shut for a second, praying to the Astrals that it wasn’t one of his friends as he hurried up again, almost sprinting now. He considered warping for a split second before deciding it would be best to conserve his power, skidding to a halt right in front of the… thing?

No, it was definitely a human.

A human with short, dirty blond hair and glasses.

Noctis gasped for breath as he let himself fall down next to Ignis, knees painfully colliding with the hard ground, sword completely forgotten as he scrutinized Ignis’ body, trying to find out where the liquid – _the blood –_ was coming from.

His right hand grabbed Ignis’ hand, holding it tightly when he couldn’t find the cause. “Ignis,” he whispered, “where are you hurt? Please, I-“ He choked up, the words getting caught in his throat.

Ignis in front of him only groaned in response, squeezing his hand. “Noct? Is that you?” He asked, his voice hoarse and raw as if he’d been screaming. Noctis had to lean down to actually understand him.

“Yes, it’s me,” Noctis assured him, the other hand coming up to wipe a stray drop of blood from Ignis’ cheek, “It’s alright now, you’re- safe. Just tell me where you’re hurt and I’ll- I’ll…” He trailed off, rummaging through the Armiger _(which he should have done when he’d found Gladio, gods, he was so fucking-)_ but finding nothing, no potions, no elixirs, no phoenix downs, and he dug his thumb into the soft flesh of Ignis’ face.

His retainer shook his head slightly, the movement obviously paining him. “No,” he rasped out, grimacing, eyes still squeezed shut, “you need to go on, Noct. Magic doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to in here. You need to get out. Find Gladio and Prompto. Don’t look back.” After the barrage of words spilling from his mouth, he coughed, blood splattering against his shirt and Noctis’ face.

“I-“ Noctis paused, gnawing on his lip. “I can’t leave you here, Ignis. Not you too.” His clothes were starting to get soaked with the blood he was kneeling in, but Noctis didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Ignis, look at me. We’ll get out of here. Together.”

He wished he hadn’t said that.

He really did.

Ignis opened his eyes, but instead of the emerald irises he was so used to… _nothing_ greeted him. The place where Ignis’ eyes were supposed to be was pitch black, not even blood was running down his cheeks.

Noctis scrambled back, this time actually emptying the contents of his stomach onto the asphalt. Heaving and retching like that, he could barely hear Ignis’ laboured breathing next to him, but he could nevertheless feel his empty stare directed at him.

When he was finally done, Noctis wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, wincing at the acidic taste left in his mouth. On his knees, he went back to Ignis, who hadn’t moved at all during this entire ordeal; not that Noctis had expected him to.

Ignis – who had mercifully closed his eyes again – was still facing in Noctis’ general direction, hands splayed out against the cold stone floor. “I’m sorry,” he wheezed out, his breathing getting shallower and shallower by the minute.

Shaking his head vehemently, Noctis grabbed his hand again, resting them in his lap. “You shouldn’t need to apologize,” he added once he realized Ignis wouldn’t be able to see him. “Ignis, I need you to tell me what to do to help you,” he commanded, acting as if he knew what he was doing.

His advisor faintly squeezed his hands, a grim smile playing around his lips. “There is nothing you can do, Noct,” he said, sounding defeated and tired, and it made Noctis want to yell at him, to tell him that he was wrong and that this, _this,_ couldn’t be the end.

But he kept quiet, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth and replacing the acidic taste of vomit. “Ignis.” He hated how weak, how broken he sounded. “Ignis, I don’t know what to do. I don’t-“

Ignis cut him off with a soft shushing sound which was most likely meant to be soothing. “Just go on, Noct. Finish what we shouldn’t have started. We will see you again, no doubt.” He sounded to certain of himself and his words, putting his full trust in Noctis.

He shouldn’t.

Noctis clutched his hand in a vice-like grip as Ignis’ grasp started to slacken, as his face smoothed out and the creases between his eyes disappeared. “Ignis- no, I-“ Slowly, his friend’s hand slipped out of his grip and limply fell to the ground, landing with a soft thud.

Noctis stared at it, stared at his own hands, painted a deep shade of red before raising them to his face, tugging at the roots of his hair. He felt hot, wet tears roll down his cheeks, dripping onto Ignis’ calm face below him and washing away the grime and the dirt.

Ignis, who looked so peaceful and so much younger in death than in life.

He pressed his eyes shut, blindly searching for his sword and using it as a sort of leverage to pull himself up. He could fall apart later; later, when he’d found Prompto. Prompto, who was still wandering around somewhere here, lost and all on his own.

Prompto, who was still alive.

Tears clouded his vision as he ran down the tunnel as fast as he could, eyes frantically darting around to spot Prompto’s blond shock of hair in the darkness surrounding him.

He ran until his legs felt wobbly and his lungs protested, until it felt as if the world around him was spinning and he was left gasping for air. He ran until the fire surrounding his sword started to diminish, nothing more than a light glow in the darkness.

He felt the pain before he heard the gunshot.

Noctis dropped down onto one knee, trying to keep himself upright with the sword as pain bloomed in his right shoulder and blood started to trickle down, soaking his clothes.

He gasped, feverishly trying to suck in the air he so desperately needed, but instead he choked on it, coughing and clawing at the bullet wound in his shoulder. His hands were shaking and bloodied as he looked down on them, leaving imprints on the ground as he braced himself on the asphalt.

Footsteps echoed behind him, walking around his body, before someone crouched down in front of Noctis. “I’m sorry,” Prompto whispered, his hand that held the gun shaking.

He didn’t want to believe it. It wasn’t Prompto. Surely it was someone else impersonating him, maybe a new type of daemon, that must have been the case. Prompto wouldn’t…

Soft hands tilted his face upwards, and his eyes met light blue, tearful ones. Prompto quickly averted his gaze again, his lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

Noctis could feel blood seeping out of his mouth, running down his chin and dripping onto the hand pressed against his shoulder. “Why?” He asked, eyes widening in shock. The Prompto he knew would never… Noctis’ eyes strayed to the black band on Prompto’s right arm; it seemed wet, and Noctis realized, that it left smears of blood on Prompto’s otherwise pale skin. “Why did you-“

Prompto sucked in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. “You need to wake up, Noct,” he whispered hoarsely, lifting his gun again. “Wake up. Now.”

Noctis could only watch in disbelief as Prompto raised the gun, pressing his eyes shut, sure that Prompto would shoot him _but not understanding why,_ when his friend suddenly got up, moving out of his sight once again. “I’m sorry, Noct. It’s for your own good.”

He wanted to swivel around, to demand answers, but the blood loss made his movements sluggish, and Prompto was faster than him, had always been faster than him. He brought the handle of the gun down on the back of Noctis’ head with as much force as he could muster, and Noctis lost his footing, face colliding with the hard ground, asphalt harshly digging into his skin.

All he could hear before his consciousness faded away and the darkness surrounded him was Prompto sniffling.

* * *

The first thing he heard when he woke up was beeping. It was unnaturally loud against his ear, and Noctis squeezed his eyes shut, trying to turn his head away from the annoying noise.

Only that that didn’t work.

Despite the pain in his head almost doubling, he tried to open his eyes, only to be met with blinding white. Noctis squinted slightly, his vision hazy as warmth encased his hand. He blinked sluggishly, looking up at his father, whose hands were wrapped around Noctis’ own, small one. His father had never looked more frail than in this moment. “Dad,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He swallowed heavily, trying his best to keep the exhaustion at bay.

He remembered what had happened. He wished he didn’t.

But now his father was here. His father, and the small figurine of Carbuncle he kept in his room, resting on the pillow right next to his head. Its blueish shimmer attracted his gaze, and he sighed involuntarily.

“Noct.” His father’s voice was warm, but the light quiver in it, barely noticeable, betrayed his… what? What was his father feeling? He almost sounded like he was scared, but that couldn’t possibly be the case. His father wasn’t scared of anything. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He tightened his grip on Noctis’ hand, closing his eyes. “Never again.”

He tried to sit up, to console his father and tell him it was alright. Seeing his father this sad made tears well up in his own eyes, and he blinked them away. Princes didn’t cry. Noctis pressed the palm of the hand that didn’t hold his father’s into the soft mattress beneath him, willing his body to work, but the moment he tried to move his upper body, pain flashed through him and he sagged back into the pillows.

Noctis hissed, scrunching his eyes shut as his father rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb, before getting up from his chair and settling down onto the bed, sitting right next to Noctis’ small frame and softly pushing him into the mattress, his big, warm hands on Noctis’ shoulders. “Don’t move, Noct. You will only aggravate your injuries further.” His father tried to smile, the corners of his mouth trembling slightly.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Noctis muttered, lacking the strength to do anything else, “I’m sorry… for failing you like this. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve protected them. You would’ve.” Despite laying down, he felt out of breath, his lungs desperately trying to suck in air. 

Regis shook his head, raising one hand and placing it against the side of Noctis’ face. “No, my son. You didn’t fail me. You never could. What has happened is not your fault; I need you to understand this. I disappointed you. I should have been there, with you. I should have protected you.” He swiped his thumb across Noctis’ cheek, his eyes filled with warmth and sadness, intermingling and becoming something new.

Noctis shifted a little, trying to get in a more comfortable position, as pain shot through him again, making his limbs tingle and his breath catch in his throat. He gasped, eyes flying wide open, and bit down on his tongue to keep himself from crying out. “Dad,” he whispered, “Dad, make it go _away_.” He hated how whiny, how weak his voice sounded, hated how it made his father’s eyes darken with grief.

But he just wanted the pain to stop. Wanted the fire that set his limbs ablaze to go out, the pain in his head to diminish.

His father drew in a shaky breath, the hand against Noctis’ face shaking. “I’m so sorry, Noctis. I promise, it will be alright. You will be as good as new.”

He wanted to believe his father. His father knew what was best, he would surely know of a way to make the pain go away.

Noctis relaxed back into the pillows, careful not to move his body too much. His father still looked like he might break apart at any moment, like the only thread that was keeping him together was Noctis himself, a broken and tattered thread, fraying at the edges. So he moved his fingers against his father’s hand, prodding the calloused skin there. “I trust you, Dad,” he simply said, squeezing his father’s hand when he heard him inhale sharply, wiping his eyes afterwards.

Noctis pretended not to notice, looking up at the ceiling instead. “I’m tired, Dad,” he mumbled, eyes already slipping shut, darkness engulfing him. “Can you tell me a bedtime story? Just this once?”

He imagined his father to be smiling down at him as a strong hand pushed his bangs behind his ears. Noctis sighed as his father bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. It didn’t make the headache disappear, but it somehow made it better, and his breathing calmed down a little as well. “Of course, Noct,” his father replied, getting comfortable beside him. “Where shall I start?”

Noctis tried to smile at his father, but it probably looked more like a grimace than anything else. “The one with the prince and the sword, please.”

His father chuckled quietly; it was a deep sound, its consistency like warm, runny honey. “Of course,” he repeated, clearing his throat slightly and waiting until Noctis had stopped moving around so much. “There once was a wayward prince on a long journey-“

“Dad?” Noctis interrupted him suddenly, eyes flying open as a thought crossed his head. “Will you stay with me?” _Not just until I am asleep._ Noctis didn’t say it out loud, but he liked to believe that his father knew what he was implying. He squeezed his father’s hand once again, and his father squeezed right back.

“For ever and ever,” he answered, the ring on his hand digging into Noctis’ skin as he gripped his hand tightly, although it was not a painful sensation. “Until the stars disappear from the night sky, and the sun ceases to rise anew. You will never truly be alone, Noct.”

Noctis quietened again, closing his eyes for good this time. Sleepiness settled in his mind like a warm, fuzzy blanket and he sighed contentedly as his father continued his story, letting his soothing voice lull him to sleep.

* * *

Birds chirped right next to his ear, their songs loud and clear.

Noctis groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block out the unmistakeable feeling of moss beneath his body and sunshine kissing his skin. It didn’t help at all.

Running a hand through his already tousled hair, Noctis gingerly sat up, resting his hand against the ground. The grass he’d been resting on was still wet with dew, so the sun apparently hadn’t been up for very long. He blinked upwards, trying to get a good look at the sky, but treetops obstructed his view, and Noctis shrugged to himself. Bracing one hand against the bark of a nearby tree, he got up, doing his best to brush the dirt off his clothes.

The forest was still around him, almost serene this early _(early?)_ in the morning, and it made him wonder if he was the only person in these woods. He certainly didn’t see anyone else, didn’t even know where he was or where his friends were.

Maybe he’d gotten lost yesterday, and somehow wound up here. Maybe his friends were just a few feet away, hiding from him and laughing at his confusion.

No, Ignis wouldn’t let that happen.

But it certainly didn’t help that he couldn’t remember yesterday at all – or the day before that, for that matter.

He surveyed the area, trying to make out any kind of landmark, anything that seemed familiar, but it all just looked the same to him. The same green treetops and grass, the same brown dirt and tree trunks, the same blue sky above his head and the same golden rays of sunshine filtering through the leaves and painting circles on the ground.

Noctis turned around, hoping to see something else in the opposite direction. But – just as he’d feared – there only were, well, _trees_. He sighed, burying his face in his heads and shaking his head, hair fluffing out around him. Maybe he was just confused. Or still sleeping. He pinched himself in the arm, grimacing when it actually hurt, and rubbed the tender spot afterwards.

Scratching the back of his head, Noctis took an unsure step in the direction of where he assumed south was, when something dark flitted by, nothing more than a shadow in his peripheral vision. He whirled around, staring at the spot, hoping that whatever _(whoever, maybe?)_ had moved past would show up again. “Hello?” Noctis called out, voice laced with hesitation, “Is someone there?”

With careful steps, he made his way over to where he thought he’d seen the shadow, crouching to duck beneath a tree branch, eyes fixated on the ground so he didn’t slip or tumble down. Showing any sign of weakness right now would be detrimental. He slipped through the trees and squeezed through gaps between tree trunks, chafing his skin on the rough bark, when the shadow appeared again, this time closer than before.

“Wait!” He yelled, reaching out towards it despite still being too far away to do anything. To his surprise, the shadow actually stopped this time, looking back at him and- barking? The dog let out a short bark, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, before turning around again and running away from him. “Umbra, wait!”

He lightly cursed under his breath. Of course Umbra wouldn’t wait for him, _of course_ he had to chase a dog right into the woods. Noctis sped up, trying to keep pace with the Messenger, but to no avail. Every time he caught a glimpse of Umbra, the dog would disappear right behind another tree, always just a _little_ too fast.

The sun bore down on him, making his shirt cling to his body and his hair stick to his face as he rushed through the forest, not looking left or right, eyes solely focused on Umbra’s shadow, just outside of his reach, almost as if the gods were mocking him.

Noctis braced himself against a tree, giving his body just a minute to rest. He didn’t know how long he’d been running for, didn’t know how much longer he had to run, and he certainly didn’t have Prompto’s stamina or his perseverance. A sharp pain pierced his side, and he winced, pressing down on the ache and trying to draw in deep breaths. This positively sucked. As if sensing his discomfort, Umbra suddenly appeared before him, licking the hand that was uselessly dangling in the air. “Hey there,” Noctis greeted him, bending down to scratch the dog behind his ears, “You really like keeping me on the run, huh?”

Umbra was panting, looking up at him with dark, unreadable eyes. “Yeah, I know. Don’t gotta answer that.” He patted the dog one last time, before standing up again. “Please tell me we’re almost there.”

The dog barked quietly, nuzzling his hand with his cold nose. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Noctis chuckled tiredly, letting Umbra lead the way – this time at a slower pace, which he was really grateful for.

It didn’t take long for them to reach a clearing, a small spring bubbling in the centre, clear water surrounding it. A woman sat on a nearby tree stump, and Noctis’ breath hitched in his throat as he recognized her blonde hair, her fair complexion, the way her white dress gracefully hugged her slim body.

Although said dress was pulled up to her knees right now, Luna’s feet submerged in the water and no shoes in sight.

The moment he stepped onto the clearing, grass quietly rustling beneath his feet, she turned her face towards him, light reflecting off the surface of the water and making her eyes shine, and smiled at him. “Noctis,” she breathed out, barely a whisper above the gurgling of the spring. “I have been waiting for you.”

He nodded, not knowing what to say. Pryna sat next to her, watching Noctis with attentive eyes as he stepped closer. Luna giggled, pointing to the body of water where Umbra was already halfway in. “You might want to refresh yourself as well. We have time, after all.”

Noctis nodded again, pulling off his shoes and rolling up his pants, carefully dipping his big toe inside the spring water. He grimaced at the temperature, almost wanting to pull back, but before he had the chance to, Pryna was already behind him, carefully nudging him into the cold water until it reached the middle of his calves. Shuddering, he gave the dog a dark look, but she had already turned away again, wagging her tail as if she had done a good deed.

What was worse though, was that he really hadn’t taken Umbra into account. The dog appeared next to him, shaking his fur with such vigour and enthusiasm right next to Noctis that it just _had_ to be his punishment for keeping Luna waiting. He pursed his lips, leaning down to scoop up a handful of water and moving to dump it on Umbra. For a second he remembered the notebook that was usually strapped to Umbra’s back, but it wasn’t there, so he went through with his plan, dumping the water on Umbra’s head. “That’s what you get for making fun of me,” he told the dog, as Umbra started pawing at his leg, spreading the water stains and making him shiver.

He huffed, stepping back slightly to get out of Umbra’s reach, and scooped up another handful of water. Umbra watched him warily, but this time he dumped it onto his own head, letting it run down his cheeks and drip onto his shirt.

Once he was done, he stepped out of the water, closing his eyes to enjoy the sun that shone down on him and warmed his body. When he opened them again, Luna was looking at him with an amused expression on her face, one eyebrow raised. She seemed to have the same talents as Ignis, after all. The two of them would surely get along when they finally got to meet each other.

A smile gracing his own face, he went to her side, dropping down next to her. Immediately, she moved closer until her thigh pressed against his own, resting her head on his shoulder, not caring about his wet hair. “Oh Noctis,” she breathed out, twirling around a lone sylleblossom in her fingers.

“What is it, Luna?” Despite the beautiful scenery, despite the two dogs next to them, despite the sun shining down on them, her voice sounded sad, hesitant. He could feel her let out a deep breath, shifting against his side.

But instead of answering the question, she hummed, pushing her golden hair out of her eyes. “I was wondering when my message would reach you, Noctis.” He made a curious noise, not knowing what she was talking about, but she already continued talking. “Prompto took quite a while to deliver it to you. Although the means by which he had to deliver it were rather… unfavourable.” She chuckled, hiding her mouth behind her hand, but her eyes crinkled up around the edges.

“Prompto?” What did Prompto have to do with any of this? He wasn’t even here.

But Luna didn’t elaborate. She just nodded, as if it was obvious what she was talking about, or how she knew Prompto. Well, of course she _knew_ about his friends, but he hadn’t known the two of them had been talking to each other. “I told you that we had time, but I lied. Forgive me for that. We cannot stay here forever; or rather, you cannot stay here forever.”

Cheek pressed against her hair, he nodded, eyes fixated on the small pond in front of them. “I thought so. Mind explaining what’s going on?”

She sighed, her breath warm on his skin. “Of course. You are dreaming, Noctis. You have been dreaming for quite a while, actually.”

He frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. He had been sleeping? For how long? He couldn’t recall anything before this morning, no matter how hard he racked his brain. “So what should I do, then?” He asked her, eyebrows still drawn together.

“I don’t actually know,” she said, her hand coming up to clutch his arm, just lightly curling her fingers around it. “The stars don’t exactly align for someone who has been living in darkness.”

Noctis snorted, reaching down and grabbing her hand, squeezing it. It felt soft against his own calloused one. “And since when have you been relying on the stars this much? The Luna I know gives great advice either way, whether the stars dictate it to her or not.”

Luna chuckled, running her fingers over his knuckles. “Of course. Then, what shall my advice be?” She seemed to ponder the question for a moment, puckering her lips as her eyes assumed a faraway look. “I suppose you have to find the cause; maybe an object or the like, something that seems out of place. Dreams are like memories, after all. If something seems out of place, there usually is a reason behind it.”

“I knew you’d know the answer,” he answered, entangling their fingers. Her hand seemed so small compared to his own, so fragile that he was afraid he might break it. “So there’s an object here as well, right? One that I have to find, and then what?”

Making a quiet noise of agreement, Luna raised her legs and rested them on the log, leaning against Noctis. “Destroy it, I would think. Then you should wake up.”

Noctis sighed, curling one arm around her waist to keep her steady. “Do you know which object it is, in this place?”

She nodded against his chest, her head bobbing up and down, and pulled out something from next to her, holding it out to him. It was their notebook. He took it from her hands, delicately running his fingers across the smooth surface. “You have to be certain that this is what you want, Noctis.” She added, after a beat of silence. “Completely sure.”

He smiled down at her. “What’s the alternative? Staying inside a dream forever?” As much as he loved Luna, the others needed him, and he needed them. He couldn’t stay here, no matter how peaceful it seemed.

As if reading his thoughts, Luna nodded again. “Oh Noctis, if only you-“ She cut herself off, gnawing on her lower lip as if deep in thought. “I cannot tell you about what is to come. I may not. But-“ she raised an arm, gesturing at their surroundings- “moss may gather where the sun doesn’t reach; a blanket of silence will settle down around you, and you daren’t say a sword lest you disturb it, as the world stills, here in this place.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, fully knowing that she would not elaborate. It was always worth a try, though.

“It means,” Luna answered at this exact moment, “that you shall sleep well now until you wake again and watch the world with changed eyes.” She smiled up at him, raising a hand to caress his face, brushing his hair aside and resting her forehead against his own. “I believe you can do this. Not because you are the Chosen, but because you’re _you._ And that is what counts.” 

Noctis closed his eyes. “What about you, though? Will you stay here?” It probably was a dumb question, given that they were in his own dream, but Luna didn’t laugh at him. She never did. Instead, she leaned back and took the lone sylleblossom still resting in her lap, tucking it behind Noctis’ ear before answering him.

“We will be here until the world slows down and the sunbeams fade away, to keep time by a pendulum as its fabric starts to fray. It is our duty, and we shall fulfil it.” Her warm breath ghosted over his face as she pressed a small kiss to his cheek before pulling away again. “And now, it is time for you to wake.” Luna placed her hands above his hand that was still clutching the notebook.

Swallowing heavily, he took one last look at the peaceful scenery around them, trying to burn the memory into his mind, before his gaze fell to the notebook in his hands. Carefully, he opened it, landing on a random page somewhere in the middle. “So this is it,” he said hoarsely, fingers playing with the pages beneath them.

“This is it,” Luna repeated, her hands guiding his own. “This is just a dream, Noctis. Wake up.” With her help, he managed to create a rip in the small book straight through the middle. The only thing keeping it together were a few loose threads. Her hands left his, just the ghost of her warmth tingling on his fingertips. He had to do this on his own.

He looked at her face one last time, his eyes scanning her expression. Luna didn’t look sad; she looked like she had come to terms with whatever was about to happen. He steeled himself, inhaling deeply. “Alright.” Wrenching the pages apart, he felt Luna’s warm hand on his arm as his consciousness faded, the smell of sweet sylleblossoms in his nostrils.

“You did it, Noct. I always knew you could do it.”

* * *

The bed underneath him still was as soft as he remembered it to be, and the same white room greeted him when he opened his eyes.

Strong yet gentle hands pushed the hair out of his face, stroking his cheek. “You’re still not asleep, Noct?” His father asked, worry evident in his voice. “You should rest, my son. I will be right here, I promise.”

Noctis – the eight-year-old version of himself – tried to nod, a jerky motion. His eyes fell on his father’s ring, and he frowned. Something that seemed unusual, something that just caught his eye… He shifted his head a little, gaze landing on the small, glassy figurine of Carbuncle next to him.

Raising his hand, he tried to grab Carbuncle, but his movements were uncoordinated and sloppy, his limbs stiff from disuse, and he barely could lift his arm high enough to even grasp the figurine. His father watched him with a pained expression, his lips drawn into a thin line, until he sighed and relented, taking the figurine from the pillow and placing it into Noctis’ open hand.

He made a small, grateful noise, curling his fingers around the cold toy, praying that Carbuncle wouldn’t hate him for this. Wouldn’t think that he did this out of malice, or anything like that. Drawing in a deep breath, he applied pressure to the glass, feeling it crack beneath his fingers.

It was more exhausting than he’d first assumed, knuckles paling around the figurine as he tried to muster as much strength as he could, his face contorting.

Between narrowed eyes, he could see his father’s confused expression, the permanent frown that had come to settle on his face. “Noctis, what are you doing?” He tried to grab his son’s hand, but Noctis pulled away, doubling his efforts. “Noctis, stop, you will only hurt yourself.”

But he couldn’t stop. Not now, not ever. Defiantly, he stared into his father’s eyes, pain clouding his vision and glass splintering in his grip, cutting into his palm. Blood seeped out between his fingers, painting the white sheets red.

His father lunged forward, trying to wrench the broken figurine out of Noctis’ hand before he could injure himself further, cutting himself on the glass as well. Their blood mingled, creating patterns on the blanket draped across Noctis. “Noctis, please, stop,” he begged, trying to make Noctis loosen his grip, staring down at him with those sad, sad eyes.

The deed was done.

Noctis sighed, opening his fist and letting his father attempt to pick out the glass shards. He closed his eyes, resting the back of his head against the soft pillow, the white of the room filling his head with static. “I love you, Dad,” he choked out as the world started to spin around him.

He didn’t hear his father’s answer, but really, did he need to?

* * *

Someone was crying. 

Noctis forced his eyes open, surveying his surroundings. He still was inside the tunnel, lying on the floor, blood pooling around his body. A few feet away, he could make out Prompto’s slender form, slumped onto the ground with his arms over his face. His shoulders racked with the sobs that escaped his mouth, and he was shaking all over.

He blinked blearily, trying to remember what had happened as blood roared in his ears like the angry sea, trying to drown out everything else around him. Clearing his throat and coughing up a little blood, wincing at the taste, he tried to prop himself up, hissing as a dull kind of pain throbbed in his shoulder. He refrained from pressing down onto the wound, focusing on Prompto for now. “Prom,” he called out, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough for the blond to hear him.

His head snapped upwards, red-rimmed eyes staring at Noctis. Prompt froze, his shocked expression morphing into a pained one as he scrambled upwards, staggering towards Noctis to close the gap between them and falling onto his knees next to him. He reached for Noctis’ hand, but drew back at the last second, almost as if scared. “I’m so sorry, Noct,” he babbled, tears welling up in his eyes again, his skinny frame shaking. “I’m so, so sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean- didn’t want to.” He truly looked miserable.

Prompto slightly crumbled into himself, ashamedly averting his eyes and staring at his lap instead. Noctis sighed, breath rattling in his lungs as he tried to move his arm, searching for Prompto’s hand and clutching it tightly in his own. “’s alright,” he mumbled, “I get it. Although,” he tried to grin at his friend to ease the tension, but given how wide and round Prompto’s eyes were, it didn’t seem to help a lot, “you could’ve been gentler, y’know.” He coughed again, blood trickling down his chin.

His friend’s gaze was unreadable as he squeezed Noctis’ hand back, his fingers cold. “So what do we do?” He whispered, matching the prince’s quiet tone. “What do we do?” 

Noctis let his tired eyes wander, ignoring the pain in his head as best as he could. “Is there-“ he paused for a second, trying to catch his breath- “anything, any object, that seemed weird to you? Out of place?”

Prompto gnawed on his lip, forehead scrunching up in thought. “Anything out of place? I-“ his gaze wandered down to his hand, still clasped between Noctis’. “Yeah, I guess…” He softly freed his hand, fumbling with the band he usually wore around his upper right arm, loosening the knot. It left a smear of blood on his otherwise pale skin.

Holding it out to Noctis, he nodded down at the accessory. “It was already soaked in blood when- when all of _this_ happened. I didn’t question it. Neither did I question her message. I’m sorry, Noctis.” Prompto’s lower lip had started wobbling again, so Noctis tried his best to give him a reassuring smile, taking the band from his hands.

“Thank you, Prom,” he whispered, fingers curling around the soft fabric, tearing at the seams. It was sturdy, but not indestructible. Aggravating the wound in his shoulder further, he raised his other arm, pulling the band apart, small beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face.

In the flickering light of the dying fire, he could see Prompto rise to his feet, his gun in his hands once again. His friend swallowed heavily. “But you don’t gotta worry anymore, Noct. Just do what you have to do. I’ll keep the darkness at bay, as long as you need me to.” It sounded like Prompto had made up his mind, and he didn’t like the sound of it.

Noctis only made a small grunt to show Prompto that he’d heard him, focusing on the armband again as it was slowly ripped apart, foreign blood running down his fingers and mixing with his own. He could taste both iron and salt on his tongue, and he grimaced, digging his fingers into the fabric.

He succeeded when Prompto’s first gunshot rang out, disturbing the silence around them.

But the silence that followed was so much heavier, and he tried to keep his eyes open for the familiar shape of his best friend as the darkness started to creep into his mind, black spots dancing around the edge of his vision. “Prom?” He called out weakly, his voice hoarse. “Ignis? Gladio?”

But it was all in vain. The tunnel was silent around him, the only sounds his sluggish heartbeat and the sound of dripping water.

Without meaning to, he lost consciousness, slipping back into the darkness as the fire started to fade away.

* * *

The pillar against his back was hard, unrelenting, and he groaned, prying his eyes open. “You’re alright,” he whispered at the sight of Gladio kneeling in front of him, more so to himself than to his Shield.

Gladio shot him a worried look, furrowing his brows. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? And anyways, don’t scare a guy like that, Noct,” he sighed, helping Noctis to sit up. “Almost gave me a heart attack, gods.” His warm hands were on the back of Noctis’ head, cradling him gently. “You doin’ okay there? How’re you feeling, should I call a doctor for you or something?”

Noctis closed his eyes for a second, trying to block out Gladio’s fussing. “Call Ignis,” he commanded instead of answering his Shield’s questions about his well-being, trying to make his voice sound as authoritative as possible. “Tell him to bring the fork. He’ll know which one.”

When he opened his eyes again, Gladio was staring at him, jaw almost on the floor. “Fork?” He echoed dumbly, frowning as if Noctis had just lost his mind. Maybe he had.

He nodded, wincing when it sent a jolt of pain through his head. “Just do it. Don’t ask any weird questions, man, I don’t know either.” To his surprise, Gladio actually obliged, pulling out his phone and searching for Ignis’ number, holding the device against his ear when it started dialling. He really hoped Ignis hadn’t discarded the fork, because he really didn’t know what else the object could be. But then again, if Ignis had destroyed the fork, wouldn’t he already have woken up?

Nothing really made sense to him, and because it hurt his head, he tried to stop thinking about it too hard.

“Yeah,” Gladio’s subdued voice cut through the white noise in his head, “I dunno, he said something about a fork and that you’d know what he was talking about?” He paused for a second, listening to Ignis’ voice on the other side of the line. “Yeah, kid looks positively out of it. Maybe a concussion? Just bring the damn fork or whatever, Iggy. He’s already staring holes into my head.” Gladio sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Just hurry up so we can get this done and over with.”

Noctis watched him as he pocketed his phone once again, scrutinizing eyes back on the prince who tiredly looked back, blinking lazily. “Iggy’s on his way,” he confirmed Noctis’ suspicions, shaking his head a little. Just watching him made Noctis’ own head spin.

He didn’t know how much time passed between the two of them staring, daring each other to make the first move. Their silence was broken when Ignis ungracefully stumbled into the room, swivelling his head around until he spotted them sitting on the floor. With swift strides, he closed the distance, kneeling down next to Noctis.

Ignis’ expression was pinched, but he was very much alive, not dead, not bleeding out in a dark tunnel, and Noctis tried to smile at him, but he didn’t manage much more than a quiver of his lips. “Brought the fork?” He asked instead, watching as Ignis pulled the silver fork, wrapped inside a tissue, out of his pockets.

“What is this about, Noct?” Ignis inquired, brows furrowed. “What need would you have for it?”

Instead of answering, Noctis leaned forward to pluck the fork out of Ignis’ hand. He sighed, scrabbling about for his sword and using it to push himself up once he’d found it just a few feet away from him.

“Noct, I really think you ought to not be moving this much,” Ignis warned him in a low voice, watching his movements with narrowed eyes. Gladio hummed in agreement and got up as well, supporting Noctis when he stumbled.

“Listen to the man, Noct. How about we just put that sword on the ground and then go to the med bay?” Gladio gently pushed him in the direction of the door, but Noctis shook his head, his grip on the sword tightening.

Squirming out of Gladio’s grip, he unwrapped the fork and placed it onto the ground, swaying only slightly when he straightened his back again, grimacing as the fire coiled around his muscles, burning them.

He lifted his sword above his head, focusing on the small fork on the ground in front him, despite the fact that he could see it twice. “Noct-“ Gladio’s voice had a kind of edge to it, sharp and stinging him. “Put that sword down. Now.”

Pressing his lips together, Noctis brought the sword down on the fork, metal screeching on metal as the tip of the blade pierced the rusty fork, not severing it. Someone grabbed his arm. “Noct! Have you fucking _lost_ it now?” 

Gladio was staring at him in bewilderment, but Gladio wouldn’t understand, even if Noctis tried to explain it to him. Ignis was standing behind him, wringing his hands and biting down on his lower lip. Neither of them would understand.

Defiantly, he raised his head, meeting Gladio’s gaze head-on. His mind spun again, the room around him moving in circles. Both of his friends’ faces had a blurry edge to them, colours mixing together. 

He blinked, slowly, when Gladio tugged on his wrist, but before he could take another step, his legs buckled under him, and he sank to his knees. His breathing sounded harsh even to his own ears, cut off and way too fast. Noctis pressed one hand against his temple, willing the headache to go away.

Gladio was at his side in an instant, pulling his hand away from his head. “Noct. Noct, where does it hurt?” Noctis gasped out between clenched teeth, shaking his head instead.

“The fork. Destroy the fork.” He made an aborted motion, trying to crawl over to the sword and end the job himself when Gladio only looked at him in confusion, but Ignis was faster than him, always so fast.

With one last look at Noctis, he brought his heel down on the hilt of the sword, driving the blade deeper into the faulty metal and breaking the fork apart. It clinked as it split, the sound gone in an instant.

Noctis breathed out, slumping over as strong, muscular arms caught him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” he murmured into Gladio’s chest, eyes falling shut once again.

The last thing he remembered was Gladio picking him up, yelling something at Ignis and the two of them rushing out of the room. After that, darkness filled his world; darkness and white noise.

* * *

Pieces of glass had pierced skin, little droplets of blood staining his bedsheets red, that all too familiar shade of red he had grown to hate.

Noctis jerked awake, his hand instinctively curling around the figurine of Carbuncle he’d grabbed before falling asleep. _“Fuck_ ,” he cursed, scrunching up his nose as he looked at his hand, trying to pull out the glass embedded in his skin in the dim light of the moon.

He stumbled out of his bed, feet slapping against the cold floor, hands flexing uncontrollably, driving the glass deeper into his body. This wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all. If Carbuncle hadn’t been the object, had already been broken when he’d woken up, then what? What was the damn object?

His hands gripped the edge of his desk, and he rested his weight on the wood, trying to look for something, anything, that seemed out of place in the dark.

But everything just looked the same, everything _was_ the same, there was nothing, nothing at all that stood out to him.

Noctis cursed again. What if this wasn’t a dream? What if this was his reality? He clutched his head, shaking it. No, even this place was distorted, fraying at the seams, even if it didn’t seem that way. It just had to be.

Wiping one hand across his desk _(it hurt, but he ignored the pain, had always been good at pretending it wasn’t there)_ , the contents – folders, documents, pens, a stray glass of water – tumbled to the floor, landing everywhere, but he didn’t care about it. Noctis kicked the desk, grimacing in pain when it hurt his foot.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” He yelled into the dark, empty room, whirling around and dragging both his pillows and blankets off the bed and ripping them apart, lining beginning to cover the floor. He stomped across the room, trying to be heard, wanting to be heard, by someone, his father, Ignis, Gladio, Clarus, _anyone_.

He scoffed, coming to a halt in front of his window, the moon still glaring at him menacingly in all its red glory. Face twisting, he grabbed the curtains covering the window, ripping them down, tearing at the seams until the fabric was all but piling to his feet.

The world around him shifted, slightly losing its focus, and he blinked, trying to regain his balance, but his feet got caught in the bundle of curtains on the floor and he slipped, tumbling down.

The fall knocked the air out of his lungs, and he scrambled to get up, but the world kept on spinning and spinning, seemingly not wanting to let him get up. Noctis braced one arm against the cool ground, pushing himself as hard as he could, but not even his best was enough.

It seemed to taunt him, the red moon, laughing at him with a mocking expression and grinning at his misfortune. He glared at it as the world around him got softer, more subdued, the colours bleeding into each other. Hands curling into the soft material of the curtains, he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way the insides of his eyelids were painted red.

* * *

Heavy breathing as well as light snoring filled the night air, and Noctis jerked upwards in his sleeping bag, eyes wide and unfocused as he took in the sleeping forms of his friends. Prompto was resting next to him, sleeping on his side with his knees drawn up to his chest and drooling onto the floor of the tent, his hair plastered against his head. Ignis was lying flat on his back, his face soft and no creases between his brows, and Noctis held his breath for a second, reminded of the way Ignis had been back in the tunnel, but his advisor’s chest rose slowly, and colour tinged his cheeks. His glasses were placed next to his face. Gladio was near the entrance of the tent, sleeping on his stomach and snoring soundly.

Noctis sighed, resting one hand against his chest to calm his erratic heartbeat. Their faces were lit up only by the dying campfire outside and the dim light of the moon.

As if stung, he scrambled upwards, almost tripping over Gladio’s legs as he made his way outside of the tent, pausing when he stood – barefooted – on the cool stone, staring at the moon.

The pale, silvery moon, so high up in the sky that it appeared to be unreachable. It seemed to be watching over him, its light reaching out to him and making his skin tingle.

Noctis sighed, running a hand through his hair, kicking a stray pebble into the darkness that surrounded the haven. “Who would’ve guessed,” he muttered, climbing back into the tent and settling down, content to just listen to his friends’ soft breathing as they slept on soundly, unaware of what had happened. He intended to keep it that way, too.

Sitting down on his sleeping bag, he pushed a strand of Prompto’s blond hair out of his face, watching as his friend’s nose scrunched up _(it probably tickled)_ before his expression smoothened out again. “You guys just are the best. And I wouldn’t change one aspect of the past if it meant I could not be with you right now. No matter how selfish that may sound. Although,” he paused for a second, chuckling quietly, “I guess even kings can be selfish sometimes.” 

No one stirred, no one even heard his words; no one but the moon, so far up in the night sky, watching over him. Outside, a lone petal of a dried-out sylleblossom floated downwards, crumbling as soon as it hit the ground, and soon enough, the wind picked the dust up and spread it.

**Author's Note:**

> alternative ending:
> 
> "Well, fuck you too," Noctis snarled at the moon, staring up at it as it menacingly loomed over Insomnia. 
> 
> He accessed the armiger with ease, pulling the Engine Blade from it and tightly gripping it in his hands. Noctis swallowed heavily, beads of sweat forming on his face and rolling down. It was now or never. 
> 
> With a hiss, he threw the sword at the moon, immediately warping after it, but he misjudged ever so slightly, the sword slipping through his fingers as he went to grab it and uselessly disappearing into the darkness beneath him. The same darkness that opened its awaiting arms for him, dragging him down as gravity pulled him towards Insomnia's dark streets. 
> 
> He blanched, trying to find any kind of ledge that he could hold on to, but the only thing that accompanied his fall was the cool night air, running its long, slender fingers through his hair. "Fuck," he cursed, squeezing his eyes shut. 
> 
> Well, if nothing else worked, he hoped that at least this would make him wake up. And that dying in his dream didn't mean he'd have to die in reality as well. 
> 
> He was so fucked. 
> 
> so this is like... dreamception i guess?  
> we do love and respect prompto in this house, so dont hate him for shooting noct lol. i also love and respect noctis. and ignis. and gladio, to a degree, but he always gets angry which i do not like. kinda wish lunafreya had more personality so i could go ahead and say i love her too, but she's kind of... a blank slate. which is a shame. 
> 
> but ill go ahead and say it, regis is best boy.
> 
> also. this was supposed to have a bad ending.  
> but it doesnt. youre welcome :) 
> 
> dont be afraid to point out any mistakes, i finished this at 11 pm and im kinda... tired.


End file.
